Martell was pissed. He was sixteen and stuck riding the bus to a juvenile hearing. It wasn’t his fault he had gotten expelled from school for fighting. The other kids were assholes who didn’t respect him. Just like his foster mother Agatha. She was a bitch who wouldn’t let him do anything out of her sight. He hated her. He hated her fat face and her boring brown eyes and her flabby tits.
Martell scanned the bus and noticed a cute Asian girl sitting at the back of the bus. He winked at her. The Asian girl winked back, then held up an old looking camera.
Martell struck a pose as the camera went off. Then he felt a slap across his face. He turned towards Agatha.
“A good Christian boy does not think about sex!” she said, sneering. “If I catch you looking at another young woman you’ll go without dinner a second night in a row.”
Martell sighed and looked down at his feet. This sucked. Agatha was so cruel.
As he stared at his feet he tried to figure out why he was wearing bright pink sneakers. And yellow socks. He stared at his mocha colored calf’s wondering why they were so sleek and hairless. He absent mindedly twirled his finger through his thick curly hair. Curly? Didn’t he have a buzz cut?
He felt Agatha place her hand on his abdomen. Her touch was uncharacteristically gentle. Her hand drifted down his bare belly and slipped under his denim shorts and down his mons pubis. He could feel it glide past where his penis should have been? Why didn’t he have a penis?
Martell felt Agatha’s hand trace the contours of his sex, tracing the outline of the swelling lips. He felt them part as her finger penetrated, separating as juices started to flow. He felt her finger work deeper. A second joined. Her thumb began circling his clit. The blood was rushing to his (her?) face and his (her?) nipples stiffened in her shirt as her chest heaved. She started panting and stared into Agatha’s bright blue eyes. Agatha had a sly grin on her masculine face.
“Martina...” Agatha whispered.
“Hmm?” Martina responded, feeling his expert hand continue to finger her, smelling the scent of her aroused sex waft up to her nose. Martina places her hand on Agatha’s lap, feeling his rock hard penis. Agatha? Andre. That sounded better.
“Why are you a girl,” Andre asked him.
“Why are you a boy?” she responded.
“I don’t know. I’m into it though.”
“Me too.”
“Can I fuck you, baby?”
“On the bus?” Martina gasped.
“No.” Andre answered. “Look, I don’t know why but I know this but I have a car parked in a garage two blocks from the next stop.”
“Oh god. Please!”
***
At the back of the bus Paula laughed at the scene. Those two were going to make a great couple!
She considered her options. She could change another target. She could exit the bus at the next stop.